


The Center Won't Hold

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American Politics, Bondage, F/F, Handcuffs, Mirror Sex, Mommy Kink, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexting, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei is a knife-wielding campaign strategist.  Margaery is her sexy, ambitious aide.  It is a super-smutty crack-burger with a crack milkshake and crack fries.</p><p>This is sort of an ongoing series without a terribly defined plotline, and I post new chapters as I feel like it, or as people request them.  (Believe me, I have more of this stuff in the queue.  I just need breaks between installments because my brain melts when I write them.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heart_nouveau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_nouveau/gifts).



Cersei strode down the hall toward her office in her four-inch heels with their pointed, cockroach-killer toes, a cadre of aides scurrying to keep up with her. Half of them were in flats, and half her age besides, yet they looked like little mice trying to keep pace with the long strides of a lion who was barely even thinking of hurrying. She was flipping quickly around within and between apps on her phone and peppering the group with questions and instructions in clipped tones as they walked.

"I see that we have two blank hours in Demoines on Thursday, Jeyne. Why is that?"

"Permit issue for the diner appearance, we're working on that," Jeyne answered quickly.

Cersei's phone vibrated to tell her that she had text messages. She ignored them for the moment.

"Call Police Chief Bronn's office and tell him you work for me and that we need it fixed. That fucker owes me."

"Yes Ms. Lannister."

"Taena, has Martell been prepped for the Couric interview?"

"Yes, Ms. Lannister."

"Thoroughly? I don't want him to go up there and learn when he's on the air that nobody went over energy policy with him."

"I'll double check with Pycelle later."

"No, you'll check now." 

"Of course."

In her periphery she was aware of Margaery, trailing her closest of the four, though still keeping an appropriate distance. Margaery, who she'd drunkenly fucked in a hotel room in Omaha during a campaign stop two nights ago. The pace had been breakneck since then and they hadn't discussed it. Cersei expected the girl to remember her place, and keep it that way. She'd better not have any ideas about slacking off just because they'd blown off a little campaign steam together on the road.

"Margaery, do you have Varys's opposition research yet?"

"The folders are on your desk."

She wasn't sure how the girl had managed it; she didn't recall Margaery having left her presence once today. She was clearly a natural at this, which meant Cersei had every reason to distrust her.

Her phone vibrated again. "Good. And, Shae..." She paused, finally relenting and popping open her texts.

A text. From Margaery. Walking five feet behind her. It said: _I can still taste your pussy._

She scowled.

"Yes, Ms. Lannister?" Shae asked hopefully when Cersei didn't immediately give her direction.

Cersei quickly collected herself.

"Shae, we're going to need to add a stop at a firing range for a photo op while we're in Des Moines, we're getting hammered on this gun bullshit. Find me one."

"Right away," Shae answered.

The other girls broke off to do as they were tasked, but Margaery followed along. "I need to stop in the ladies room; come with me," Cersei said coolly, and Margaery followed her into the single occupancy bathroom in this wing of the office.

Margaery looked at her with a raised eyebrow, lips pursed naughtily. "Is there a problem?"

Cersei pulled up the text message and held the phone up. "What the fuck is this?"

"Is there something unclear about it?" Margaery asked innocently.

"It -- and you -- are both out of line," she answered coldly. 

"You mean you don't want it again?" Margaery asked, moving closer. She was looking Cersei over like she had no trouble recalling what she looked like without clothes.

"That was a one-time deal," she shot back, becoming more angry at Margaery the closer she came. Anger was brimming up, hot, inside her chest. Down in her gut.

"That's a shame," Margaery sighed with heavy exaggeration. "You were good. _Very_ good."

She was fiddling with the lapel of Cersei's burgundy blazer now, looking intently down the front of her silk blouse. When she lifted her eyes to meet Cersei's they were full of an overwhelming, thick, nasty lust that was like too-strong perfume, like overripe fruit. 

"I think you've forgotten your place," Cersei warned, but it was a lost cause. Margaery reached out her other hand and threw the bolt on the inside of the door.

"I think I know exactly where my place is... _Ms. Lannister._ "

The challenge was too much. Cersei yanked Maragery in, grabbed her hair, pulled her head back and sank her teeth into the side of her neck. She felt the girl's hands slip inside her blazer and grasp both tits, squeezing hard. She felt herself get pushed back against the wall, Margaery's mouth digging into hers. To call it a kiss would have seemed woefully inaccurate; it was oral combat, as they bit at each other's lips and penetrated each other's mouths with their tongues as if trying to claim ground. She found her hands sliding up Margaery's thighs, crushing her skirt up around her waist, grabbing her firm, white buttocks, digging her nails into them hard, extracting a breathy little moan.

"You're unbelievable," Cersei panted. "Right here in a bathroom? You little slut."

"That's right," Margaery whispered, tugging Cersei's blouse loose from the skirt and slipping her warm hands up and into her bra. 

Cersei knew her nipples were already rock-hard and ready for this little tramp and her rough, insistent tugging. Oh, god, how rough she was.

"I'm a dirty... little ... slut..." Margaery went on, punctuating each word with a bite, a tug, a flick of her tongue against Cersei’s ear. "...who wants to fuck you exactly how you like it."

Cersei didn't want to admit that it wasn't just the girl's weight pressed against her that had her leaning back against the wall: her knees were weak. Margaery's fingers slid under Cersei's skirt, in through the leg of her silk underwear, and found she was wet and swollen. Her mouth twisted into a delighted smirk, her eyelids grew heavy, and she bit her lip. "And it feels like that's just what you need," she pursued, sliding two fingers into her and moving them slowly in and out. "Tell me..." Her voice became a hoarse, throaty whisper. "How do you want your little slut to fuck you?"

Cersei turned suddenly hard, fighting to get control of the situation but wanting nothing more than for this little bitch to fuck her like she did the other night. "Get on your knees," she ordered. 

Margaery did.

"Lick my pussy like it's your fucking job," she spat. And for good measure, she looked at her watch. "You have five minutes."

Margaery leaned in, pushed Cersei's skirt up, pulled the fabric of her thin, soft silk underwear out of the way, and began to devour Cersei's cunt like she was on the clock, because she was. She sucked aggressively on her clit as her tongue darted back and forth over it, slipping fingers inside and thrusting them with a rough urgency. Cersei felt the heat traveling up from her cunt to her throat, and she had to close her eyes for a minute as the pleasure became too raw for her to think straight.

She opened her eyes for a moment and caught sight of them in the full length mirror across from them: she, the kingmaker, standing there in her power suit, with this fetching little creature half her age kneeling in front of her, servicing her with unparalleled enthusiasm. The rush it gave her was like a hit of blow. It bumped her even higher.

It didn't escape Margaery's notice. "That's right," she cooed between hot strokes of her tongue, "look what a sexy, powerful bitch you are. You have me right where you want me-"

"Shut up," Cersei snarled, and pressed Margaery's face harder into her. Margaery looked up at Cersei as she continued to work, with a knowing look that said she was getting exactly what she wanted, too.

When Cersei came, she gripped the wall behind her with both hands, shuddering and struggling to stay on her feet. The heels weren't helping. Margaery kept her lips exactly where they were, holding Cersei's stiff, hot clit expertly between them as the orgasm wrenched through her, in big, slow waves. She gritted her teeth, struggling not to make the kind of noise she wanted to. Her chest heaved, silent, her head foggy from the frighteningly quick satisfaction of a sudden, explosive lust.

A knock came on the door.

"Ms. Lannister?" came an aide's timid voice.

Margaery licked her lips and was already on her feet, fixing her lipstick in the mirror. "We're both in here," she said so evenly, so cheerfully that Cersei had to wonder how many times she'd spoken to her on the phone just after she'd fucked someone. "Ms. Lannister was having a bit of a zipper malfunction but I think we've got it straight. We'll be out in a minute, I'm just trying to make sure the safety pin is going to hold."

"Okay thanks," came the voice from the other side. "Let her know we're getting calls from Rachel Maddow's people about what Martell said at CPAC."

Margaery walked briskly from the mirror and into the one and only stall, pulling a length of toilet tissue and folding it over several times.

"Tell them we'll be happy to have him comment on it during his scheduled appearance next fucking week. Nothing til then," Cersei barked.

"Okay," and then they heard her footsteps fading down the hallway through the heavy wooden door.

Margaery handed the wad of tissue to Cersei with a sly smile, suggesting, "You might want to mop up." Then she deftly fished a safety pin from her purse, walked around behind Cersei, and, lifting her blazer, fastened the pin to the top of the zipper on the back of her skirt.

Cersei looked at her quizzically. 

"Making sure our ruse will hold better than your zipper."

"You walk around with safety pins?"

Margaery gave her a twinkly-eyed smile. "A girl never knows what she might need."


	2. Body Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have particular plans for how many of these there are going to be. But here's another one.

Martell won the Iowa primary handily.  It was a surprise to the talking heads, but not to Cersei Lannister.  She'd pulled out every trick she had in Iowa.  It meant Martell's face suddenly everywhere. It meant Cersei with her instantly-recognizable silky smile occasionally appearing on news programs to comment on public policy and make veiled jabs at their main competition in New Hampshire, the immensely qualified but not especially beloved Stannis Baratheon.  The party rank-and-file had seemingly resigned themselves to it being "his turn," but without much enthusiasm.  Martell's victory in Iowa awoke something in them.  Suddenly, they had an opening.  There was blood in the water.

That was when Cersei was at her teeth-picking, knife-twisting best.

With the influx of cash from the win, they hired more staff.  Cersei's aides suddenly had aides.  And Margaery became indispensable to her.  It wasn't simply that she had a natural ability to delegate and was able to keep her eye on all the moving parts: she understood and anticipated every need Cersei had.

In a presidential campaign, it was normal for the candidate to have a "body man;" an aide who was with them at all times, ready to attend to any need, from speaking to reporters and staff on their behalf to producing a breath mint, a safety pin, or a spare set of cufflinks.  And if they were good at it, there was usually a plummy White House or State Department job at the other side of it, if their candidate won.  But it was not, strictly speaking, a thing that the campaign strategist generally had.

Suddenly, though, Cersei found that that was exactly what she had.  Well, a body woman, she supposed, on the order of Hillary Clinton's famously beautiful and poised Huma Abedin.  She didn't "promote" Margaery, or ask her to do it.  She simply found that in the week that passed between that scorching bathroom sex and winning the primary, Margaery had been all business; competent, attentive, and ahead of schedule.  When Cersei was in the green room at Fox News and the button had popped off her blouse, Margaery pulled a needle and thread out of her purse.  When she was starting to fade and realizing that she needed lunch, Margaery was already handing her a grilled panini and an iced tea from the Delmonico's downstairs.  When she was looking for a transcript of Brian Williams's last interview with a conservative primary candidate, Margaery had already emailed it to her.  No sexts, no flirty glances.  That little encounter started to feel like something she'd dreamt.

Late one night, she was in her office, catching up on emails.  Margaery had just set an iced coffee next to her and was running down everything she planned to get a jump on in the morning.  Cersei was nodding along and interjecting here and there as Margaery walked around behind her, rifling papers, grabbing this, putting back that.  After a few minutes, the tapping of her heels along the floor stopped behind Cersei's chair.  She felt the girl's hands, those pretty, soft hands settle on her shoulders and squeeze the stone-stiff muscles underneath her starched white Brooks Brothers shirt with surprising strength.  "You're very tense," she remarked, in that tone.  _That_ tone.

"I like my tension, it keeps me sharp."

She squeezed again, harder. "Are you sure? I'm really good at getting these kind of knots out."  She dug her thumbs in.  Her voice became just a little breathier.  "I have a lot of practice."

Cersei felt something warm clench up, low in her gut, as Margaery's fingers pushed so firmly into her tense shoulders that it hurt, that kind of good hurt you get when your body really needed something and finally got it.  She exhaled slowly.  "Margaery..."

"No-one's here," she went on, kneading away at her, her voice becoming velvety, "you can make noise if you want."  She felt Margaery lean down, felt her warm breath on her ear as she said that.

Amid the deep, aggressive kneading, Cersei felt those soft fingers intermittently brush over the back of her neck.  It made her blood feel like whiskey and her stomach feel like a hot fist.  Her body was buying what Margaery was selling.  That simply would not do.

She pushed her chair back and spun it around, looking her square in the eye.  "That's enough for today,  Margaery.  Please leave, and close the door on your way out."

Margaery paused, giving her that look she'd given her in the bathroom, the one that said, _I'm going to fuck you, and I know you want it._ The corner of her lips curled up slightly.  "The door?  I told you, nobody's here."

"I don't care if the rest of civilization has been wiped out.  Close the fucking door."

"Of course," she answered with that knowing smirk, and sashayed out, pulling the door shut as she'd been told to do.

Cersei tried to get back on writing her emails, but it was no good.  The way Margaery had touched her was enough to set her on edge.  She had been flat-out staring at the girl's ass as she left just now.  She was never dressed inappropriately, but she wore good suits and had them tailored so that there was no mistaking what kind of body was under them.  And that was all Cersei could think about now.  The ass underneath that skirt and how it felt when she dug her nails into it.  And she was probably wearing some tiny, lacy little underwear.  She _had_ to be.

"Goddamnit," she hissed under her breath.  She flopped back in her chair, unzipped her slacks, slid a hand inside  them, and started to stroke herself in tight little circles through fabric of her underwear. She was pissed off that it had taken so little for Margaery to get under her skin that way, but here she was, and not one goddamn email was going out until it was taken care of.  Her eyes slipped shut and she flashed back to what she'd seen in the mirror the other day.  To the feel of Margaery's firm, tight little ass in her hands.  Her heart banged against her ribs like a beast trying to escape a cage.

The phone buzzed on her desk.  Text message.

"Shit," she grumbled, pausing her anxious fiddling to look at the message.

Fucking Margaery.  _I know what you're doing in there._

"Fuck off," she muttered, and went back to it.

The phone buzzed again.  _Wouldn't you rather I did that for you?_

She sighed disgustedly.

Buzz.  _You could just sit back and relax._

She took the phone in her free hand, and went back to stroking herself.

The text started coming in, one after the other.  _I could get on my knees for you again.  You could put one of those stiletto heels of yours on my shoulder to make sure I don't get out of line._

The thought sent a wave of heat through her as she continued rubbing, her clit becoming harder under her fingers.

_You could pull my hair if I don't lick you just right._

_Come on, isn't this making you wet?_

_Don't you want my fingers sliding in and out of your wet pussy?  
_

"Jesus Christ," she sighed, speeding up her movements.  Her breathing was getting thicker, faster.  Her cheeks burned.  She wasn't about to give Margaery the satisfaction of knowing it, but those texts were indeed getting her wetter than she wanted to admit, shoving her toward a searing climax whether she liked it or not.

_Don't you want to shove my face into it so deep it suffocates me?_

_Come on, I'm right at my desk.  Tell me to come over there and I will.  You've had a long day.  You need my hot tongue on your clit and my fingers jammed into you, fucking you good and hard.  
_

That filthy little bitch, she thought.  It was too vivid.  It pushed her over the edge.  She went stiff in her chair for a moment, as if trying to contain all of the heat that spilled from her clit outward, into the rest of her body.  It was too hot.  It felt too good.  It felt like sugar and fire and amphetamines and she wanted it to not stop.  But it eventually subsided.  She slowed her strokes, easing herself back down.  When the endorphin rush cleared enough, she picked up her phone and tapped out a text in reply.

_I don't have time for this shit now, Margaery.  Go fuck yourself._

The phone buzzed a moment later.  _Sure.  Want to watch?_

Cersei sighed.  _No.  I'll see you 6 a.m. tomorrow at Fox studios.  You know where to meet me.  Good night._

But later that night, at home, she wondered about it.  Maybe sometime, she thought, she wouldn't mind watching, contemplating whether Margaery was the type who used toys or not, whether she would lie on her back or stand, whether she would play with her firm little tits while she did it.  But there needed to be no confusion about who was in control of things.  And tonight, Cersei felt satisfied that she had laid down the law.


	3. On the Rocks

They had five weeks til New Hampshire's primary.

Margaery hadn't mentioned a word about the dirty texts she'd sent, and they acted as if nothing had happened for about a week.  After running the entire staff into the ground for three days straight on media tactics, Cersei decided to call it an early night ("early" meaning before 11p.m.).  She went to Margaery's desk.  "I'm leaving."

"Alright.  I'm just going to check over what Jeyne put together for Martell's media schedule."

Cersei considered her for a moment, lips pursed.  With detached cool, she decided, "That can wait till the morning.  Come with me."

Margaery's face remained mostly impassive but still registered something like victory.  She left everything on the desk, and they went downstairs and picked up a cab on K Street.  They sat in the back, quiet as they rode past the Capitol dome which was illuminated in white.  Margaery lightly placed a hand on Cersei's thigh and stroked it with intention; it roused a wave of warmth between her legs, but nevertheless, Cersei brushed her hand away.  She would be naming the terms tonight, not Margaery.

They went up the wide flights of wooden stairs to Cersei's well-appointed loft on Dupont Circle without a word between them. When she opened the door on her tasteful expanse of hardwood, white walls and Persian rugs, Margaery simply remarked, "Nice place."

"Of course it is. Do you think I'd live someplace shitty?"

Margaery only gave her that little feline smile that made Cersei want to smack it off her face.

Cersei wanted to start tearing the girl's clothes off, but she maintained her frosty tone. She beckoned her over to the open kitchen outfitted in brushed steel, pulled out a rock glass and a bottle of Glenlivet.  As she poured the scotch, she smoothed one hand over the pocket of her blazer, feeling the bulk within.  She walked back over to Margaery, who was leaning back against the island, elbows on the countertop.  She sipped from the glass and felt the scotch burn in her mouth as she inserted herself into the girl's space, not quite touching, but close enough to smell the woodsy, cool scent of her Guerlain Vol de Nuit perfume.  It smelled like oak and lilies and vanilla and fucking.  Guerlain Vol de Nuit would always smell like fucking now.  Not breaking her gaze, Cersei held the scotch glass up between them and asked, "Want some?"

Margaery stared back.  "I'd love some."

After surveying her for a moment, Cersei commanded, "Take off the jacket."

She did, and tossed it over one of the barstools near the island.

"And the skirt."

She unzipped the skirt and let it slip to the white ceramic tiled floor, then kicked it aside, holding her gaze completely steady.

Cersei looked at her, still leaning back against the island in her button-down tailored shirt and stockings with her black pumps still on.  _Jesus Christ,_ she thought.  But she rewarded her obedience by putting the rock glass to Margaery's lips and tipping it up, letting some of the scotch run into her mouth.   She set it down on the counter, and pressed herself, still fully clothed, up against her soft body.  "Perky little Maggie," she murmured.  She slid her hands up the girl's waist and gave her tits a rough squeeze, watching Margaery's eyes close as she did it.  "Perky little tits."  She moved her hands back down to Margaery's waist again, around to her back, down to her high, tight little ass, and squeezed.  "Perky little ass."  God, her ass.

Margaery bit her lip, but kept staring at her.

Cersei's left hand slipped up, took one of Margaery's wrists, and brought it around behind her back; her right hand reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out a set of handcuffs, and smoothly cuffed Margaery's wrist to the handle of the locked cabinet she was leaning against.  Margaery gasped a little, but looked intrigued and turned on.  Without waiting for any more reaction than that, Cersei took Margaery's other wrist and slipped the other cuff around it with a cold "click".  Perky little Maggie with her hands cuffed behind her, it was almost too gratifying.

"I think we need to get clear about what our relationship is," Cersei began, her lust growing angry and restless between her legs as she looked at her little catch cuffed to the cabinet handle. "Fucking me isn't going to do anything for your career."

"Maybe that's not the only reason I'm doing it."

Cersei snorted. "Please. If you were working for Mary Matalin you'd be trying fuck her too."

Margaery's naughty blue eyes twinkled. "Probably. And Carville too, if I thought it would help. But I wouldn't be enjoying it half this much."

Cersei dismissed her words with a wave and another sip of scotch. "You're so full of shit you don't even know when you're lying." She started undoing Margaery's buttons to reveal the lacy Victoria's Secret bra underneath.

But she heard Margaery's breath quicken as she worked the buttons. "She made me an offer, you know. You can call her if you don't believe me. I turned her down when I got yours."

Cersei paused and looked back up at the girl's face again. "Why?"

"Because." She swept her gaze up and down Cersei's body. "I don't get wet when I look at her. But you, on the other hand..."

Cersei gritted her teeth.  She struggled to keep the raw lust off of her face, but she was pretty sure it wasn't working. She drew a sharp breath, tugged Maragery's stockings and panties down, and growled through her tightened throat, "Is that right?"

And between those creamy thighs, her fingers found the raw, warm flesh of Margaery's cunt; she felt like a flower early in the morning, with silky petals covered in a thick layer of dew.  Cersei felt herself getting wet too.  She slid a finger inside, and Margaery moaned.

"That's all for me, is it?" Cersei demanded.

Margaery nodded, her breath getting ragged.

If she was pretending to want it, she was pretending at a molecular level.  She _wanted_ Cersei; wanted to be fucked by her, wanted to be cuffed to a cabinet in her shirt and heels, legs spread open for her whims.  It was an intense narcotic to be desired that way.  She slipped another finger in, and another, pushing and pulling, digging her fingers in, watching the heave and quiver of the younger woman's tits.

Margaery's heels skittered against the tile as she struggled to stay standing, while Cersei stood there, fingers hooked into that wet cunt, pulling forward roughly and then thrusting in as far as she could, reaching in and then turning her hand as she pulled out.  "Is that what you want from me?" she demanded through hot, thick breaths.

Margaery answered in moans.  "God, yes, fuck me.  Do it harder if you want," she panted.

Cersei became even more aggressive.  Her other hand pushed into Margaery's open shirt, squeezed her tits even rougher than before.  Her thrusting became deeper, more intense, almost violent.

"Yes, that's it, wreck it," Margaery moaned.

Cersei felt all the blood drain from her head and into her throbbing sex, as she pounded away inside Margaery.  Her fingers were dripping, the juices were running down her hand.  "Who do you work for?" she snarled.

"You," she groaned.

"Who does your pussy work for?" Cersei pursued, blazing with a fierce lust.

"Oh, GOD.  YOU."

She had her close to coming, she could feel it.  With a vicious smile twisting her lips, she pulled her hand away.  Margaery looked at her, smoldering.

"Keep going," she whispered.

The desperation in her voice made Cersei's clit thump and made her hard nipples chafe against the inside of her bra.  "What do you want?"

"I want to come," Margaery begged.

 _So do I,_ Cersei thought, wet and aching.  She she swirled a finger in the scotch and brought it down to rub it all over the girl's engorged clit, and was rewarded with wordless panting and moaning from her.

She stopped again.  Margaery was quivering on the edge of coming.  Cersei picked up the scotch glass.  Took an ice cube in her mouth and crushed it between her back teeth.  Margaery watched hungrily as she tilted the glass and took a little more scotch in her mouth, knelt down, and put her mouth up to the girl's hot, trembling sex, sloshing tongue and ice and scotch against it.  Margaery strained and rattled against the cuffs, coming as hard as Cersei had ever seen anyone do.

She swallowed -- scotch, ice, and Margaery.

"Believe me now?" Margaery demanded, still catching her breath.

Cersei gave her a half smile but said nothing.

"Unlock me.  Let me return the favor."

Cersei shrugged.  She pulled out the key and released her from the cuffs.  But when Margaery reached for her, Cersei rebuffed her.  "We're done, here.  You can go."

Margaery didn't show any disappointment.  She simply pulled her pants and stockings up, retrieved her skirt and put it back on, and slipped back into her blazer, while Cersei poured herself another scotch.

"I'll be in at 7 tomorrow," she said evenly as she headed for the door.

"Fine."

The door opened.

"And Margaery?  No more of those fucking filthy text messages.  We don't need an electronic trail for this dyke bullshit, do I make myself clear?"

Margaery smirked.  "Of course.  How careless of me.  Next time i want to talk to you about eating you out, I'll call you instead."  She paused for a beat, seeming to gauge Cersei's reaction.  Cersei tried to give none, but everything from her waist down was screaming at her to let Margaery stay, stay and fuck her like the girl clearly wanted to do, leaving her skin drowning in the scent of her Vol de Nuit.  "Goodnight, Ms. Lannister."

"Goodnight, Margaery."


	4. Remind Me Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A species of celebration after a successful fundraiser.

The campaign had money now. Martell's handsome face was everywhere. It was a mere two weeks from the New Hampshire primary and they'd just cleaned up at a fundraiser in Boston. Boston, Stannis Baratheon's old hometown; spanking him in his own backyard would be a sweet victory, and cement the notion of Martell as a winner; Baratheon was mayor of Boston, and now he can't win in New Hampshire.

Margaery had accompanied Cersei back to her room, ostensibly to go over the itinerary. It had been a month since Cersei had cuffed her to a cabinet and fucked her stupid, and once again, things had been all business between them. The sex once again almost ceased to seem real, except that Cersei, on nights when she was tense or horny or needed to blow off steam, would rub herself out in the shower, or lying in bed, remembering Maggie's moaning and her voice begging for more.

"We really cleaned up, tonight.  I can't believe it but I think we're going to beat Baratheon on his home turf," Margaery remarked brightly, bustling around the room and tucking things into place exactly the way she knew Cersei liked them.

Cersei stood in front of the mirror, wiping off her lipstick. "What time do we have to be in Derry tomorrow, Maggie?" she asked, inspecting her reflection. She was satisfied that she didn't look as tired as she felt.

"7:30," Margaery answered without even looking at her phone. "We have to be out of here by five to be on the safe side."

Cersei locked eyes with her in the mirror. "Fine. What time's my phoner with Sean Hannity?"

"It's at six."

An awkward pause. "Fine." Cersei swept the bangles off her wrists in a smooth motion and tossed them onto the dresser. "It's late, you should go to sleep."

Margaery stepped up closer behind her. "Shouldn't I help you with this zipper first?"

There was no way around it. The form fitting red cocktail dress was impossible for her to get out of without an assist. "Actually, yes."  She picked apart the knot in the shimmery scarf of gold silk that was knotted around her neck, and then gestured for her to go ahead.

Margaery's hands settled on Cersei's shoulder, unzipping the dress far more slowly than necessary. Cersei could see in the mirror that Margaery was relishing the moment, her eyes traveling down Cersei's back as she gently tugged the zipper down, lower lip tucked between her teeth. Cersei's mouth twitched. "Take a picture, Maggie. It'll last longer."

"If you'd let me," she sighed, and then with delicate hands, peeled the dress off of her.

Cersei stiffened, but said nothing, stepping out of it and watching her carefully lay it over the armchair. She stood in her pale, silk slip and watched her walk back over. She felt those soft fingers start lightly stroking up and down her back.

"Sure you want me to leave?" Margaery asked sweetly.

The warm blush crept up Cersei's neck, instantly familiar.

"Because it doesn't look like you do," Margaery observed, continuing to trail her fingers over Cersei's exposed back, looking in the mirror and obviously enjoying the sight of Cersei's nipples stiffening through the thin fabric of her slip.

There was no hiding that Cersei's body wanted her to stay, even if her mind had more reservations than Ducasse on a Saturday night.  "Miss Tyrell," she forced herself to say.

Still in her own cocktail dress, Margaery moved closer, her tits just barely touching Cersei's back.  Cersei could feel her breath on the back of her neck, her soft hands sliding down to her hips.  "Just tell me to stay, I know you want me to." 

"Maggie..." Cersei began to protest again, but there was no force behind it.  She looked in the mirror, saw the hunger on Margaery's face, saw her hands slide around to the front and take both of her tits in hand, ever so lightly, brushing her thumbs over their stiff nipples.   She watched herself arch into the touch, watched Margaery grow more pleased and full of that thick, too-sweet lust. 

"Don't you get it?" the girl was sighing in her ear.  "You don't have to prove anything.  You're in control of this.  You always have been."  She continued stroking and teasing one nipple, while her other hand drifted down Cersei's stomach, lightly settling over Cersei's warm cunt, her fingers whispering over it so lightly that Cersei could feel the flesh between her legs practically standing up stiff to meet her teasing strokes.  Despite her best efforts, she exhaled long and slow, as the ache began to deepen.  "You've got everything I want," Margaery went on, continuing to torment her.  "Your genius... your power... your connections..."  She applied a little more pressure with her hands.  "...your pussy." 

Cersei allowed herself a quiet moan, still watching in the mirror as Margaery continued feeling her up.  The girl was pressing herself harder against Cersei's back now, her sweet breath thicker on her back and shoulders.  Cersei was moving against her, urging her hips forward, trying to press her cunt harder into Margaery's teasing touch without seeming as urgent as she felt.  She stared at them in the mirror, getting wetter. She wanted to beg her to do all of it harder. But begging wasn't her style.

"I wanted to fuck you from the first time I saw you," Margaery went on, now rubbing herself against Cersei's back.  "You've always been in control.  So just... take what you want.  I don't care what else happens.  Take what you want."  She began sinking her mouth into the bare skin of Cersei's shoulder, her neck, her tongue lacing along that sensitive skin.  Fire moved in slow motion from the nerves there to the ones in her clit. "I must have _something_ you want."

Cersei watched for a moment more, letting herself take in the sight of them, this lithe little thing winding up against her, pleasuring her, panting into her ear.  She watched her own hand slip back, take hold of Margaery's thigh, squeezing it hard until she saw a look of pain on the girl's face.  Pleasured pain. Good.  "Take your clothes off," Cersei ordered. 

"You want me naked?" Margaery asked, her voice all hot velvet and sex.

"Yes.  That's what I want."

Margaery slid her hands slowly off of Cersei, slipped her clingy black dress over her head, and tossed it over the chair beside Cersei's, where it landed in a puddle of black spangles.  As she was about to remove her bra, Cersei said, "Move over a little so I can watch."  And in the mirror, she watched Margaery step a foot or two to one side, so that her body was completely unobstructed in the mirror.  When she unhooked her bra, and peeled off her lacy little boy shorts, Cersei stood there, eyes blazing, raking over her little prize.

"Come around here," she commanded. "In front of me."

Margaery did as she was told, positioning herself in front of Cersei, facing into their reflection.  Cersei liked this.  Her gaze moved down Margaery's back, drinking up the smoothness of her skin, her tiny waist, that firm little ass.  Then it moved back up to the mirror, greedy as it took in the spectacle of Maggie's perfect tits with their dark, rosy nipples standing up with anticipation. 

She made a little noise of approval.  She reached down, pinched Margaery's ass, hard.  Margaery gasped a little.  Cersei smiled and stroked the little red mark she'd left on her flesh and moved around to the side.  "You're very forward with me this evening, Maggie," she scolded, purring and licking her lips.

"Yes," she agreed.

"You need to remember who's in charge, here," Cersei went on, still stroking the spot she had marked.

"Remind me," Margaery taunted breathily, bending forward and resting her elbows on the dresser.

And with the flat of her open palm, she slapped Margaery's waiting backside, watched it quiver, drank up her yelp of pain and then the moan that came after.  The red shape of her hand left behind on her pale skin was like art.

"Remind me harder," Margaery challenged.

Cersei struck again, hardly believing the drunken heat that filled her, listening the cracking sound of her hand slapping flesh.  "Naughty little Maggie," she murmured. She struck again and again, looking at the pattern of red marks on her ass, watching Maggie's face in the mirror and those pouty lips quivering with hurting and wanting.   _Look at her legs,_ she thought with satisfaction, _they're shaking._

She ran a gentle hand over the flesh she'd just been punishing, and then nodded over at the bed.  "Get in the bed," she ordered.

She appraised Margaery's body thoughtfully as it unfurled itself on the bed in front of her.  She took her scarf from the dresser, and slipped smoothly out of her own panties as she stalked the little kitten on the bed.  She moved closer, surveying her.

"Take what you want," the little kitten breathed again, one arm crooked behind her head, the other hand lazily stroking the patch of dark brown hair between her legs.

And one quick movement found Cersei binding Margaery's wrists to the headboard.  Margaery moaned encouragement.  

She positioned herself between Margaery's long legs, and pushed her thighs apart, devouring the sweet panting coming from those pretty lips, "that's it, that's right, take it."  Cersei pushed her slip up, and wound her thighs in and pushed her cunt in against Margaery's.  The moment of contact was electric; they both instantly shivered and moaned at the current of pleasure they found in each other's hot, wet sex.  

Cersei ground her hips, deep and slow, riding her, taking her pleasure, feeling Margaery's hips bucking under her in response.  "God, you feel good," Margary groaned.  

Cersei  was more than satisfied.  She was thrilled, her little Maggie bound up and writhing underneath the insistent rhythm of her fucking.  "Don't come," she warned as she ground away, her nerves lit up with endorphins, her own pleasure building as she rubbed her cunt up against Margaery's.

Margaery whimpered a little.  "But it's so good..."

"Don't," Cersei repeated more forcefully, her hips nevertheless demanding a response that Margaery would not be able to contain.

Margaery bit her lip and tried to keep it from slipping over the edge, but Cersei could feel her tense up, and then quiver helplessly underneath her as the orgasm rolled through her body in a crescendo of moaning.

But Cersei didn't stop.  Even when the first orgasm subsided and Margaery begged, "Please... oh god, it's too much," with her limbs quaking and flailing beyond her control.  She didn't stop.

A few minutes later, Margaery came again, sharp and sudden, and Cersei stopped this time.  She moved up the bed, to where Margaery's wrists were still bound to the headboard.  Straddling her, she lowered her hot sex down to Margaery's mouth and commanded, "Finish me," but there was a note of need in her voice.  she heard it, and she knew Margaery did too.

Margaery's mouth was so sweet, so knowing.  Her tongue had the right touch, exactly what Cersei needed, dipping into her folds and sliding up to make quick work of her stiff clit.  Swirling around it, torturing it, pulling the hot pleasure out of it that she was so good at doing.  When Cersei came, she came hard, with a deep moan and a curse, and buckled forward onto the headboard to keep from collapsing onto the girl's head.

She remained that way for several minutes.

Margaery lay quiet, except for her thick breathing, which was slowing down.

Finally, she suggested, "Why don't you untie me and lie down?"

"Why," Cersei rejoined coolly, "did you want to cuddle or something?"

Margaery yawned.  "No, but my arms are losing circulation and your legs are shaking like you're going to collapse on my head, which i'd sort of rather you didn't."

Cersei quirked an eyebrow, but undid the scarf around Margaery's wrists, and then stretched out on the bed beside her, studiously not touching her.  She didn't know how Margaery could go so easily from begging to be fucked, to seeming like she could hardly care less how brusque and distant Cersei tried to be afterwards.  She didn't know what to do with this creature; the indispensible aide that she truly could not imagine living without at this point, yet whose ambition gave itself away at every turn.  She didn't want to trust it when Margaery wanted to fuck her, but the sex was earth-shattering every time.  Whatever else Margaery wanted from her, that much felt real.

"Help yourself if you want anything out of the mini bar," she sighed, her eyes closing.  "I'm probably going to pass out in a few minutes.  I think it's probably a good idea for you to sleep in your own room."

Margaery took her meaning.

Margaery didn't care.  Cersei opened an eye to find her already slipping back into her clothes.  "Thanks," she replied, cheery as ever; Cersei almost wouldn't know what had just happened from looking at her face.  "I'll show myself out," she added with a wink, hitting the light switch as she left.

Cersei lay in the dark, her skin reeking of Maggie's perfume, the bed redolent of sex.  It had happened again.  And what was worse, they both knew that she wanted it.


	5. Discipline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the request of my wee darling who made this evil ship part of my life, Margaery decides to introduce a bit of mommy kink.

Cersei couldn’t stop looking at the clock.  It was excruciating.  It was almost one a.m. and she needed to get to sleep.  They had a full day tomorrow, with pressers starting as early as six a.m.  She couldn’t have her blade be dull for that kind of a day.

Maybe she needed to blow off some steam.

She dialed Margaery’s room.

Margaery picked up, sounding only slightly tired.  Cersei knew that she’d woken her.  “This is Margaery.”

“Maggie, did I wake you?”

“Yes, it’s fine, though.  Is everything alright?”

“Yes.  I’m just having some trouble getting to sleep.”

Margaery yawned.  “Well, do you want some Xanax?  I think I still have a few.”

Cersei paused.  “I don’t want Xanax.”

Margaery took a breath.  “I see.”

“Well, can you come over here?”

“That’s how it is?” Margaery asked coyly.  “You think you can just wake me up at one in the morning for a booty call?”

“Yeah, that’s how it is.  Now come over here.”

Margaery gave another exaggerated yawn.  “I dunno, I’m reeeally sleepy.”

Cersei’s mouth twisted.  “Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.  Don’t be difficult.  Come over.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” she answered, sounding suddenly very young and petulant.

Cersei sighed.  So we were going to be pushing that button tonight.  “Maggie… you’re being a very bad girl.”

Maggie exhaled heavily into the phone.  Cersei knew she’d hit the spot.  

“When I call you, I expect you to come.  And when I tell you to do something, I expect you to listen.”

“But I’m a bad girl, and I don’t want to listen,” she cooed into the phone.

“I’m going to be very angry if I have to come over there,” Cersei pressed on.

Margaery’s breathing was getting thicker on the line.  “Maybe you should.  Maybe you should come teach me a lesson.”

Cersei hung up the phone.  She threw a bathrobe on over her thin, silk nightgown and went two doors down to her assistant’s room.  But before she could even raise her hand to knock, Margaery opened the door and let her inside.  She was wearing a light, cotton nightgown that was so thin Cersei could see everything through it.  She looked around the darkened room, and settled into the armchair next to the dresser.  Margaery stood in front of her, waiting for what Cersei would do.

“Take that off,” she ordered after a moment.  As always, she was flooded with that envy and lust mingled at the sight of Margaery’s body, so young and ripe, the full breasts standing firm and ready.  Cersei knew she was sexy for her age, but Margaery’s persistent lust for her definitely felt like there was something particular bent in the girl.  Not that Cersei was about to stop indulging it.

“You’ve made me come over here after I specifically told you I wanted you to come to me.  And I’m very angry with you,” she told her, coldly looking her over.  “So.  I’m going to show you what happens when you make me angry with you.”  She patted her lap.  “Over my knee.  Now.”

Margaery slid out of her panties and did as she was told, bending herself across Cersei’s lap.  “I’ve been a bad girl,” she whispered again, her bare ass quivering, waiting for the slap of Cersei’s open palm.

“Oh, yes, little girl,” she answered, caressing her lower back for a moment.  “You’ve been very, very bad.”  And she laid a loud, open slap across her ass.  

Margaery moaned and shook in her lap.   

“Do you think that was hard enough, for how bad you’ve been?”  Cersei demanded, caressing the red spot where she’d struck.

“Oh, I think I’ve been much worse than that,” Margaery sighed.

Cersei laid another slap against her ass, putting more force behind it this time.  Margaery shook, and moaned.  “Harder,” she begged, and Cersei raised an eyebrow, but slapped her again, with as much force as she could.  Margaery’s fingers clutched the arm of the chair and she moaned again, but didn’t ask her to stop.

As always, the heat started to rise in Cersei’s chest and rattle around restlessly in her cunt, as she laid more blows against the soft flesh of Margaery’s tight, round little ass, hitting as hard as she could.  Her own hand was stinging, and she paused.  “Are you ok?”

Margaery nodded.  “Yeah.  I like it.”

Cersei continued striking her, feeling Margaery’s trembling weight in her lap, listening to those little bitten-back moans, until she couldn’t wait anymore.  She drew a finger down Margaery’s ass, down to her soft pussy, which lay open for her, and was dripping wet.  

“Hmm,” she observed, trying to keep her voice even, “this bad little girl must like being spanked so hard.”  She slipped a finger in, and drank up the little gasp that it caused.

“Oh, god,” Margaery sighed.  “Yes.”

Cersei slipped another finger in and began to pump away at her wet, juicy cunt.  “You like being spanked, you bad girl.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It makes your pussy all wet, doesn’t it.”

A wordless moan.

Cersei’s thrusting became more aggressive.  “You like being fucked like this too, don’t you.”  Not that she needed an answer, with Margaery’s hips bucking back against her fingers.

“Oh, god, yes,”  Margaery moaned, her cunt clenching at Cersei’s fingers.   “Oh, yes, oh god, yes,” she was moaning, “oh fuck me.  Fuck me, mommy, fuck me.”

Hm.  Mommy.  That was new.  Cersei paused for a moment, eyebrow raised, trying to decide what she thought about it.  But Margaery whined when she stopped fingering her, and it seemed to do something for her, so she decided to roll with it.

She slid another finger in, pounding her deep and hard, like she was trying to break it.  “Do you like it hard like that?  Do you like it when Mommy fucks your pussy like that, you naughty little girl?”

Margaery was practically thrashing in her lap, her head hanging forward and her one hand in her mouth to keep herself from making too much noise.  She moved her hips in long strokes against Cersei’s hand, and Cersei could feel the muscles inside her tensing up toward a release.  She pulled her hand out and slapped Margaery’s ass again.  

Margaery groaned.  

She slipped her hand back in again.  “You’re a naughty little girl,” she said, her fingers digging in and moving hard and fast like a jackhammer.

“Oh… oh…. Mommy….”  And then she was convulsing from an orgasm that was harder than maybe any of the others Cersei had seen.  After a moment, she melted off of Cersei’s lap and onto the floor, where she lay prone for a moment.

Cersei surveyed her.  Interesting.  “Why don’t you come here and show Mommy what a good girl you can be?”

Margaery slowly gathered herself up onto her knees, and crawled over between Cersei’s legs.  She laid her head against Cersei’s chest, tugged her robe open, pulled the shoulder strap of her nightgown enough to expose one of Cersei’s tits.  Cersei looked down at Margaery’s plump little mouth, her soft tongue working from the bottom of her breast upwards and around, till her lips were closing around her hard nipple.  She felt that soft, clever tongue, working over the nipple as she sucked on it, occasionally punctuated with a stab of pleasure as she sank her teeth in just enough to hurt in exactly the right way.  She watched Margaery as long as she could stand to keep her head up, until she was too hot to do that anymore and she let her head loll back, and let herself go limp in the chair with Margaery kneeling in front of her, doing all the right things with her tits.

And she heard the handcuff close around her wrist before she felt it because she was so lost in what Margaery’s mouth was doing.  She looked down, and saw that Margaery had cuffed her to the chair.  She looked back at Margaery, still kneeling in front of her.  “What the fuck?”

Margaery gave a pouty little smile, “I am a very bad girl, you know.”

Cersei yanked at the cuff.  “Knock it off.”

“Is it making you angry?”  she asked, looking like she was about to devour her.

Cersei glared at her.  “Yes, it’s making me angry.”

“Good,” Margaery purred.  “Mommy likes it angry, doesn’t she.”

Cersei was torn between struggling and not.  She’d come here looking to blow off steam and she was about to get it.  How had she found herself on this end of their sexual jiu jitsu yet again?  The rage began to boil in her throat.

Margaery leaned forward and tormented the exposed nipple with her tongue.  “I’m a bad girl, Mommy.  You can’t control me.”  She slid down, pushed Cersei’s thighs further apart, and lightly ran the tip of her tongue over the outside of her folds.  Cersei found herself angling into the touch despite herself.  

“Goddamnit,” she growled.  “You little brat.”

“Hmmm, you’re going to punish me really hard for this, aren’t you?”  she ran a thumb over Cersei’s stiff, aching clit, teasing it.

They’d had an unspoken agreement until now that Cersei was the only who did the tying, the binding.  She continued to struggle half-heartedly against the cuffs, but it only seemed to make Margaery’s aim more accurate, her thumb stroking Cersei exactly where she needed it.

“Mommy likes a little angry fuck, doesn’t she,” Margaery sighed sweetly, and lowered her mouth again to lick Cersei.  

Cersei surrendered.  She slumped lower in the chair to open herself up to Margaery’s tongue.  This was what she came for, for Margaery’s mouth on her cunt, sucking and licking it the way she liked it.  She needed it.  She hated needing it, but she needed it.  She needed the high of being this girl’s lust object.  “You little cunt,” she snarled, as Margaery went to work on her.

“Oooh,” Margaery sighed.  She closed her lips around Cersei’s clit and sucked, drawing her tongue back and forth over it till she had Cersei’s hips rocking against her.  

Cersei felt a finger slide in, and a wave of heat spread up through her.  “You like fucking your mommy, you little freak?”

“Mmmm,” was all Margaery said as she worked, her tongue creating a delicious havoc between Cersei’s legs.

“Then show me how hard you can make your mommy come,” she ordered.

Her cuffs rattled against the legs of the chair as she felt the oncoming hit of adrenaline, the warm, wet, determined strokes of Margaery’s tongue pulling her closer to it with unstoppable purpose.  Margaery’s fingers, digging inside her wet pussy until she was overwhelmed with the sensation of it, hating it and loving it the way she always did, until she came like a freight train with Margaery kneeling between her legs, the overwhelming high of release, hot pleasure flushing away the anger, the tension, the garbage she was carrying.  She sat slumped in the chair, one leg splayed over the arm, feeling lighter.

It wouldn’t last.  It never did.  She would be back again, playing these games, never quite feeling like she had control of it.  She marshalled everything she had to sound as bored and annoyed as she could.  “Maggie, take off the cuffs.  I need to scratch.”

Margaery could tell this wasn’t part of the game.  She probably could tell that Cersei’s anger a moment ago wasn’t part of it either.  She unlocked them quickly and Cersei scratched her nose.  After a moment more, Cersei got up.  She straightened her nightgown, closed her robe.  Margaery got up and threw her nightgown back on.

“Was that OK?” she asked, trying for her usual breezy, but seeming more concerned than usual.

“Yeah, it was fine,” Cersei answered noncommittally.  “A little weird, but, you know.  Fine.”

Fine.  It was fucking hot.  She would think about it every time she touched herself between now and the next time they fucked.  “I’m going to need a five a.m. wakeup call.”

“Yeah, I know.  I ordered it already.”

Cersei walked to the door, still feeling so wet and swollen she wasn’t sure how she’d walk back to her room.  

“You know, it’s okay for you to just admit that you like this,” Margaery said.

Cersei paused in front of the door.  Of course she liked it.  Of course she wouldn’t admit it.  Why would she give up the little bit of power she had in this bizarre dynamic?  “Goodnight, Maggie.”


End file.
